Dancing With Demons (12 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Adult, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Dancing With Demons
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‘So it was not too large, but it was heavy. It must have been made of metal or stone – probably metal.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘And you have no idea what it was?’
‘None.’
‘Thank you, Irél. You have been most explicit. I may want to speak with you again.’
The warrior rose and raised a hand to his forehead in half-salute before turning and leaving them alone in the study.
Eadulf sighed. ‘That really does not help us much.’
Fidelma glanced at him. ‘One nut does not help a squirrel pass through a winter,’ she replied. ‘But the squirrel, each day, continues gathering a nut here and another nut there until he has built a pile of nuts which are his store that will help him survive.’
Eadulf regarded her blankly.
‘We are the nut gatherers,’ she relented and explained. ‘We gather the nuts until we have our store, and looking at the store we come to the solution. One thing I should explain to you is that Delbna Mór is not that far away from the territory of the Cinél Cairpre whose chieftain was Dubh Duin. Now let us go in search of Muirgel.’
But the girl was difficult to find. Returning to the High King’s house, Fidelma asked the guard outside where she was but he expressed his lack of knowledge in a disinterested tone and suggested that one of the servants might know. The couple passed inside but found little sign of the servants or anyone else.
Undeterred, Fidelma started up the stairs towards the apartments above. Eadulf followed nervously.
‘Is it the custom to wander around the High King’s house unannounced in this fashion?’ he whispered.
‘I see no one to challenge us on the matter,’ Fidelma replied determinedly.
At the top of the stairs she paused and then stepped towards the door of the apartment in which the High King’s family stayed when in residence. She halted, knocked and listened. There was no response or movement from inside. She waited a moment more and then glanced at Eadulf before reaching to turn the handle.
The room that met their gaze was almost as bare as the High King’s own chamber.
Fidelma and Eadulf gazed around in surprise.
‘Well, it seems as though none of the High King’s family reside here, and I would say that they have not done so for some time,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Abbot Colmán said that Gormflaith and her daughters had another residence within the royal enclosure but it is certainly strange that there is no sign of an occupant of this apartment.’
She went round the room, noticing the layer of dust on the empty shelves and boxes.
‘Who are you?’ cried a commanding voice suddenly. ‘How dare you enter these chambers without permission?’
The pair swung round and saw the figure of a woman standing in the open doorway, regarding them with suspicion. She was not young, like Báine or Cnucha, but she still had a voluptuous beauty, a figure that was mature but eye-catching even with the drab clothing of a house servant. She had dark hair, a pale skin and bright eyes whose colour was indiscernible in the shadowy light of the room.
Fidelma studied her for a moment or two before replying: ‘I am Fidelma of Cashel, the
dálaigh
investigating the manner of the death of Sechnussach. That is the right by which I dare enter these chambers, and with the approval of Cenn Faelad and the Chief Brehon.’
The woman blinked and her features altered a little in what seemed to be a look of apology.
‘I am sorry, lady. I did not know you. Of course, I have been told that you have arrived at the royal enclosure and are investigating this matter.’
‘And you are?’
‘I am Brónach. I am in charge of the female servants. Is there anything that I may help you with?’
‘Ah, Brónach. Of course. Well, this chamber does not appear to have been cleaned in some while. Why is that?’
The woman moved further into the light. Eadulf regarded her movement and poise with appreciation. As handsome as she was now, she had probably once been a great beauty.
‘There is no need to clean it regularly, lady,’ replied Brónach. ‘It is not used. It would have been a different matter if it were occupied.’
‘It is obvious that it is not occupied,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But I thought these were the chambers of Sechnussach’s wife and family.’
‘Not for some time,’ the woman replied, but there seemed a reluctant tone in her voice as she admitted the fact.
‘For how long?’
The woman did not reply and when it was obvious that she was not going to, Fidelma said: ‘I am looking for Muirgel, the High King’s daughter. Where would I find her?’
‘There is a house to the south-east corner of the royal enclosure. You will find her there. It cannot be missed as it has a white-painted lintel. It is called Tech Laoghaire.’
It was then Fidelma remembered that Abbot Colmán had made a passing reference to the fact that Muirgel lived in another house in the royal enclosure. She was annoyed with herself for forgetting.
‘Has the family of the High King lived there for long?’
Once again Brónach shook her head. ‘I am sorry, lady, I am merely a servant in this house and am not allowed to talk about the High King and his family without direct permission of the Brother Rogallach, the
bollscari.
’
‘Even though you know I am a
dalaigh
?’
‘Even so, lady,’ the other returned tightly.
‘I am told that you were here on the night of the assassination.’
‘As you were told it, I will not deny it, but—’
‘You can answer fully, Brónach,’ came the voice of Abbot Colmán as he ascended the top stair and crossed the landing to join them. ‘You have full permission to answer all the questions that the
dálaigh
asks of you.’
The woman shrugged as if she did not care one way or the other. Fidelma recognised that she was the ultimate loyal servant, never offering information without the approval of her superior.
‘I was here on the night of the assassination,’ she repeated, almost in a wooden fashion.
Fidelma nodded briefly at the abbot as if to indicate her thanks and then turned back to Brónach.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Nothing to tell. I was asleep and then I was awakened by people shouting. I went to my door and—’
‘Your room is where?’ Fidelma interrupted.
‘Just along the corridor here.’
‘Did you hear a scream? Was that what awakened you?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I heard no scream but people were shouting. I went to the door and saw Torpach and Maoláin in the corridor with the girl Báine. Brother Rogallach was coming from his room.’
‘I presume that it was they who were shouting?’
‘They were speaking loudly, it is true,’ Brónach said. ‘However, I think the shout had come from one of the guards who had already entered the High King’s chamber. Someone said that Sechnussach had been killed. We all moved to his door to see whether it was true. Then Irél came running up the stairs.’ She turned to the abbot. ‘I think the abbot arrived then and took charge. That is all I know.’
‘Very well,’ Fidelma said. Then: ‘One other thing. I presume you or the other servants cleaned the High King’s chambers after … after his body was taken away?’
Brónach seemed to stiffen a little. ‘We did nothing until we had full permission from the abbot here, and he was acting with the authority of the Chief Brehon.’
‘Of course,’ Fidelma said soothingly. ‘I would not suggest that you did anything without permission. However, when you were tidying the room and cleaning up, did you notice a particular object? It would have been circular in shape and about a
troighid
in diameter. Also, it would have been made of heavy metal.’
Brónach glanced nervously at the abbot before shaking her head.
‘I would not have removed anything without permission,’ she stated.
‘I did not suggest otherwise. I said, did you observe such an object?’
‘I do not recall seeing any such object like that,’ the woman replied quietly.
Abbot Colmán was frowning. ‘Was it something of importance?’ he asked.
‘Probably not,’ Fidelma said. ‘Just something I wanted to have clear in my mind.’ She turned back to Brónach. ‘What items did you remove from the High King’s chambers?’
‘Only the clothes and linen from the bed.’
‘The bedlinen?’
‘Indeed. That needed to be taken to be laundered for there was blood on it.’
‘Of course. But I understand there would have been too much blood for the bedlinen to simply be laundered.’
Brónach shook her head. ‘Not so much blood that the bedlinen could
not be used again. But Brother Rogallach, who is the head of the household, said it was unlucky for the sheets to be used again in the royal household.’
‘So what happened to them?’
‘After I washed them? Well, on Brother Rogallach’s instructions, I took them to the market and sold them.’
‘And there was not so much blood on them that they could not be re-used?’ queried Fidelma thoughtfully.
‘I have said as much.’
‘And you are sure that there was nothing else, no object of a circular nature, anywhere in the apartment?’
‘I have said as much,’ repeated the woman stubbornly.
‘Have you served here for many years?’
‘I came here three years ago, lady. When my husband was killed.’
‘Your husband?’
‘He was Curnán, son of Aed, of the Fianna, lady. He was killed in an attack by the Dál Riada. Sechnussach offered me a place in his house as the chief of his female servants. I have been here since.’
Fidelma glanced around the empty room. ‘That will be all, Brónach. Thank you.’
As the woman left them, Abbot Colmán said: ‘I came looking for you as I heard you had finished questioning Irél.’
‘We were looking for Muirgel, the daughter of Sechnussach.’
The abbot was apologetic. ‘I thought I had mentioned that Sechnussach’s family dwell in their own house just outside the royal enclosure.’
‘You had, and I had forgotten,’ Fidelma admitted.
‘So,’ Eadulf put in, ‘do we understand that the High King’s wife and daughters dwelled separately from him?’
‘Separately, yes,’ confirmed the abbot. ‘They live in
Tech Laoghaire,
a short distance to the south.’
Eadulf was about to comment when he caught Fidelma’s eye and he said nothing.
‘Then you lead the way, Abbot Colmán,’ Fidelma said. ‘Let us see if we can find the lady Muirgel.’
T
here were two things that Eadulf noticed about Muirgel, daughter of the late High King. The first was that she was a very attractive girl. She had fair skin with a hint of freckles, black hair and dark eyes. The
aimsir togú
, or ‘age of choice’ in the five kingdoms was fourteen years old, when girls became women. Muirgel was seventeen and therefore of marriageable age. Eadulf imagined that she would have many suitors. However, the second thing he noticed about her was her arrogance. It was there in the way she held her head, the disdainful curve of her lip.
She reclined in her chair among an array of cushions as they entered and regarded them with an expression that made it clear that she did not welcome their presence. The young servant girl who had opened the chamber door to them and conducted them to her mistress hesitated as if waiting for further instructions before being dismissed with a haughty wave of her employer’s hand.
Muirgel looked at the elderly abbot with disdain. She did not even bother to look at Fidelma or Eadulf.
‘Well, Abbot Colmán, why is it that you must disturb my peace this afternoon? I have a headache and would prefer to rest alone, and yet I am told you must bring a
dálaigh
to plague me with questions.’ The girl’s voice was a low, drawling tone that seemed to express total boredom.
There was something apologetic in the manner in which Abbot Colmán stepped forward and began to clear his throat. Eadulf saw the look of annoyance on Fidelma’s face and she interrupted.
‘Your servant is not trained well, Muirgel,’ she snapped.
The girl stared at her in surprise at the unexpected interjection. ‘What?’ The word seemed reluctantly jerked from her.
‘At the door, we told the girl who we were. Are you saying that she did not tell you?’
Muirgel swallowed and tried to regain her composure as she heard the sarcasm in Fidelma’s voice.
‘She told me,’ she snapped back. ‘And one would expect those in the company of Abbot Colmán to know some court etiquette. You are addressing the daughter of the High King … ’
Fidelma made a slight cutting motion of her hand as if to silence her.
‘I know well whom I address. Just as your servant should have given you my name and, knowing it, there should be no excuse not to know who I am and my reason for coming here!’
The girl blinked at the sharpness in her tone. ‘She told me that a Sister Fidelma …’
‘I am here as a
dálaigh
qualified to the role of
anruth
. I presume that you are acquainted with this rank?’
‘Of course,’ Muirgel answered through a tight mouth, sitting up on her couch in a straighter position.
‘And then you know well that it is I, Fidelma of Cashel, who comes to question you over the death of your father,’ went on Fidelma with a hard and remorseless tone. ‘So let us have no more acting the
mórluachach.
’
It was a word that Eadulf had seldom heard before, but he guessed that it meant someone who pretended to be high and mighty, who put on airs and graces. He knew that one thing Fidelma detested was arrogance in others – and it was only when such false pride was displayed that she reminded people of her own royal birth as one of the princely family of the Eóghanacht of Muman who once contended for the High Kingship itself.
Muirgel had turned pale and Abbot Colmán, in contrast, was red with embarrassment. In the silence Fidelma added an old axiom: ‘Nobility has no pride.’ She glanced around the room and pointed to some chairs. ‘Eadulf, as no one has offered, will you bring chairs that we may sit and discuss our business in comfort.’
Smiling to himself, Eadulf moved quickly to bring the chairs while Muirgel sat in a stunned silence. Her expression became malignant as she fixed her eyes on Fidelma. Unconcerned, Fidelma stretched back in a relaxed attitude and then turned to Abbot Colmán.
‘You are not sitting, Colmán,’ she reproved.
‘I have not the need, lady,’ the abbot muttered, still embarrassed, for it was protocol for him to wait to be invited to sit by Muirgel.
‘No matter,’ Fidelma replied, turning her attention to Muirgel.
The girl had now gathered herself together.
‘I am told the Eóghanacht of Cashel are ill-mannered,’ she hissed.
Fidelma was not put out. ‘It is a sign of nobility to be courteous to guests whatever their rank,’ she admonished.
‘The Uí Néill are to be treated with respect for we are a great house,’ the girl said petulantly.
‘And is it not said that the doorstep of a great house is often slippery?’ replied Fidelma. ‘Respect is something that is earned and not given by right of birth. I knew your father, Sechnussach, and he earned my respect. That is why I have travelled from Cashel to discover the reasons for his death.’
The girl’s chin jutted as if she would argue further but Fidelma moved on quickly.
‘Where were you on the night of your father’s assassination?’
Muirgel did not answer.
‘Remember,’ Fidelma warned her, ‘rank bears no privileges against the interrogation of the
dálaigh
of the rank of
anruth.
You are bound by honour to answer my questions or be fined accordingly.’
The girl swallowed, then muttered, ‘You have doubtless been told where I was, so there is no need to ask.’
‘I have been told only that some believed that you were here in Tara.’
‘Then that is where I was.’
Fidelma exhaled irritably. ‘All we know is that you did not attend the abbey Cluain Ioraird with your mother and sisters Mumain and Be Bhail. Why not? I am told that they had gone there to offer prayers on the death of your grandmother.’
‘My grandmother died some time ago and I was not close to her.’
‘It was a matter of respect, lady,’ muttered Abbot Colmán, feeling he should say something.
‘Are you telling me what I should do?’ Muirgel turned flashing angry eyes on him.
Fidelma and Eadulf glanced at one another. Here was certainly an unpleasant and self-willed young girl. At another time, Fidelma would have intervened for her ill manners to the abbot but she wanted information.
‘When and where did the news of your father’s death reach you?’
‘I spent the evening with a … some friends. Then I came here as the
girl,’ she gestured towards the door to indicated her departed servant, ‘as the girl will tell you. In the morning, I had decided to go to my father’s house and break my fast with him. But a servant arrived here as I was making ready and told me the news.’
Fidelma could not sense any emotion in the girl’s matter-of-fact voice.
‘Did you like your father?’ The question was swift and unexpected.
Muirgel blinked. ‘Of course,’ she said, tossing her head.
‘That is good to hear,’ Fidelma replied. ‘It does not always follow that a daughter likes a father. She can love her father but that is not what I asked.’
Muirgel did not respond to this, merely looked at her nails.
‘So what were your feelings when you heard of his death?’ Fidelma tried again.
‘I wanted those involved to pay for this outrage. Naturally.’
‘Those involved? You think there was more than the assassin who struck him down?’
Muirgel pouted again. It seemed a favourite habit. ‘I have no knowledge of such things,’ she said, and yawned. ‘I was using an expression, that is all.’
‘But you did know the assassin,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘When did you first meet Dubh Duin?’
The girl’s eyes widened at her knowledge and she said nothing for a moment, trying to read what lay behind Fidelma’s question.
‘Dubh Duin was a distant relation, a chief of the Cairpre,’ she said finally.
‘We all know who he was,’ Fidelma said. ‘Come on – when did you first get to know him?’
‘I don’t know.’ Muirgel hesitated a moment more. ‘He used to attend my father’s Great Assembly. Perhaps it was then that I met him.’
‘He came often to the Great Assembly?’
Muirgel indicated Abbot Colmán. ‘The abbot here would be better able to answer you for he is adviser and steward to the Assembly.’
‘I suppose what I really want to ask is what relationship you had with Dubh Duin during these last few weeks?’
The girl suddenly turned bright scarlet and half-rose from her couch.
‘Relationship?’ she screeched. ‘What? How dare you! What are you implying?’
‘I was not aware that I was implying anything.’ Fidelma remained
relaxed. ‘I was merely asking a question that needs an answer. I want to know why you gave authority to the guards to pass Dubh Duin through the gates of the royal enclosure after midnight on more than one occasion in the days leading up to your father’s assassination.’
There was total silence in the room. If a needle had fallen, Eadulf believed he would have been able to hear it in the stillness.
‘Who said … ?’ began the girl.
Fidelma made an impatient gesture. ‘Come, Muirgel, you do not think that such a thing could go unrecorded or unnoticed? Isn’t it time that you spoke honestly about this matter?’
For a moment or two the girl relapsed into silence. Then she spoke slowly, as if measuring her words.
‘I did not know Dubh Duin other than having seen him among those attending the Great Assembly and perhaps once or twice at my father’s feastings. It was not my desire to have further acquaintance with him. It is the truth that I speak.’
‘Then why—?’
This time it was the girl who held up her hand for silence.
‘On the occasions when I brought him into the royal enclosure after the gates had been secured at nightfall, it was not my desire to do so, nor was it for myself. I was
asked
to do so. My role in this matter was to use my authority to pass him through the guards at the gate, and then to escort him to the royal enclosure. That was all.’
Fidelma examined the girl impassively.
‘All?’ she queried sardonically. ‘Surely not! You took it on yourself to let this man into the royal enclosure on several occasions after nightfall, to escort him in, and then you say it was not your will nor desire to do so? Come, lady, there is much more you need to tell us. You must have known what reason brought the man hither?’
‘I swear it was not any reason of mine,’ rapped out Muirgel, with a return of her old spirit. ‘I had no liking for Dubh Duin.’
‘Then, why? What reason did he have for coming here?’
‘I do not know,’ she replied stubbornly.
‘For the sake of all that is holy, that is not good enough!’ Fidelma snapped in frustration. ‘If you were told to use your authority to pass this man – the man who assassinated your own father for goodness sake! – into the royal enclosure,
who told you to do so
?’
The girl fell silent, dropping her gaze to the floor.
Abbot Colmán coughed uncomfortably. ‘Come, lady,’ he said gently. ‘You must tell us all you know. If it wasn’t you that wished Dubh Duin to gain entrance into the royal enclosure, who told you to use your authority to allow that to happen? And why would you do so? What hold would they have over you, to make such a request and know that you would obey it?’
Muirgel was hanging her head, her shoulders were hunched and shaking, and Eadulf suddenly realised that she was crying.
‘Come, Muirgel,’ Fidelma insisted, unmoved. ‘We have little time to play games. Who ordered you to admit Dubh Duin on these occasions – and why would you obey?’
The girl raised a tearstained face to Fidelma.
‘It was my mother,’ she said simply.

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